A distinct period is reached when the tendencies of human self-will and idolatry culminate in Nimrod and Babel. A concrete proof has been thus given of a deliberate determination to dethrone God and exclude Him from all part in the affairs of men. God's reply to it is—firstly, judgment on the perpetrators of this crime; and, secondly, the calling out of Abram who is raised up as a new witness. Henceforth the place of divine favor and testimony is not with the world at large but with a man and a city separated from the world, persecuted by it, and yet returning good for evil by being appointed channels of mercy and benediction to all nations of the earth.
The development of the earth—man and city had been rapid, imposing and heroic; but the development of the divine selection is comparatively slow, unimposing and obscure: it was indeed heroic, but not in an outward sense—quite otherwise. In the time of Peleg God had made all arrangements. Yet after his birth Abram, the selected man, is not born for 191 years after, and is 75 years old before he starts from Haran, and is years in traveling 700 miles. Slow progress indeed; yet he has left such “footprints in the sands of time” as have petrified into an enduring record—like those portentous footprints which the mighty Saurians of the old world left in the sands of the mesozoic period, and which have since hardened into rock. They were apparently little valued at the time, but now the geologist prizes each one of them, as men of taste a priceless fragment of sculpture by Phidias.
This principle of a small beginning with a steady and gradual development—festina lente—is especially characteristic of God's work. Man works with a plank; God works with a seed. The man cuts and finishes his plank very soon: he puts it into the ground and it begins to rot. God also puts His work into the ground, where it is hidden for a time. The small brown seed dies, but in due time rises from the dead and begins to grow. The progress is so very slow as to be almost imperceptible; but it is increasing, and its “seed is in itself;” it is eternal. The seed differs from the plank in this—the plank, how well polished and finished soever it he, is dead; but the seed, however humble looking, is Alive. In the plank is a temporary triumph and then decay; in the seed there is temporary disappointment and defeat—it is trodden under foot and lost sight of—but, ultimate success and eternal life; ever living, growing, and extending till the small acorn has heroine a forest of oaks which “against the stormy sky their giant branches toss.”
We now therefore find the introduction of a new order of things. Henceforth the servant of God is to be no citizen of this world but it stranger; no resident in it, but a pilgrim, traveling steadily forward to a land of fairer promise than Shinar; looking for the city (whilst he passes by Babylon) which hath foundations, and whose Builder and Maker is God. He is “looking for” it, but sees it not—sees nothing but the wilderness and the foe—knows not whither he is going, but he knows that God knows, and this is sufficient: he walks by faith and not by sight. Abram is the personification of this principle of faith; he is the father of the faithful. We have in Genesis a series of Representative Men; and this is what he represents—the nobility, security and happiness of a life based on a belief of God's words, and surrounded by a trust in God's works.
For faith has these two general aspects, and a third resulting there from. Firstly it is a solid basis the foundation, “the substance—ὑπόστασις—of things.” It is like the rock-foundation of a lighthouse, out of sight so that the building seems to rest on the unstable water; unless one mount skyboard—then looking down, he can see, from where God sees, that its foundation is steadfast and eternal: or it is like the tranquil depth of the mountain lake, quite unruffled in its serene quietude, however much the surface may be disturbed. It is most like the bass part in music, binding the melodies, which wander over its head, into a harmony, giving them unity, strength and solidity. Especially is it like those strange “ground” basses, used in the seventeenth century, in which the deep notes moved through a, constantly recurring melody of their own over and over again, while the higher parts were always varying yet always harmonizing. There is one feature of the great blind musician's which makes him distinct from all the rest: it is the majestic and solemn gravity of tranquil repose and strength which characterizes the bass parts of his compositions, especially the marches. Now if there be one thing more noticeable than another as a general and pervading characteristic in Abram's life, it is this spirit of placid repose and calm deliberate movement; though he lived in especially troublous times, passing through exceptionally turbulent circumstances.
The second aspect is of faith as a shield to “quench all the fiery darts.” The man of faith is thus protected, in much the same way as the earth is, by an atmosphere which, though it seems nothing, being invisible and intangible, yet is an invulnerable guard against the fiery assaults from the heavenly places. The meteorites, which are launched in hundreds at the earth's bosom, fly towards it with viewless and noiseless death: at once on reaching the atmosphere they become ignited with the friction; they instantly flare, scream and explode, ultimately falling harmlessly to the ground. Few men stay to think how the earth is thus hourly menaced and defended. And this is how the man of faith is also defended: the deadly missiles hurled continually against him are darkly discharged but are instantly revealed when they come within the atmosphere of his trust in God, and even though they should hurt him, they cannot harm him.
The third aspect is that faith “worketh by love." It is a dead or non-existent faith, unless there be works flowing from it. James demands “Was not Abraham justified by works”? Certainly he was, “but,” says Paul, “not before God.” Just emphasize those four words and at once the apparent difference between Rom. 4 and James 2 is reconciled. The soul's justification “before God” can only be by faith; but that faith is perfected in works James reasons, and this is how a man is externally recognized as being a possessor of faith. Well, the way in which these works (Christian actions) come about is on the principle of love. The law worked by fear. Faith worketh by love—this is the great motive. As a telegraph works by electricity; as an engine works by steam; as a compass works by magnetism; so faith flashes messages between earth and heaven, winged by love; so faith “overcometh the world,” empowered by love; and so faith points day and night to the North Star of the universe, guided by love.
J. C. B.